Underfoot
by Aer Arcanum
Summary: AU. In an impoverished society where only the ruthless can succeed, Ryou finds a strange book which, when written in with blood, responds to the writer. When the dark soul within begins to act on its own, what can Ryou do to stop his world from crumbling?


They ran to the beat of their own footsteps echoing behind them, the sweat pouring over their skin mingling with tears. Their breath struggled in and out with rasping gasps as their chests screamed for air, and their muscles for rest. But they kept on running through the shadows, through unused roads and darkened alleyways underneath the black night, ignoring the pain, focused on keeping their numb feet slamming on the ground. Finally, when their bodies could take no more, they slumped against an alley wall in the pitch black of the night, huddling together, two crouched figures trying to catch their breath as quietly as possible.

Yugi was the first to give out a sob, and it sounded all the more pitiful with his lungs still struggling for breath. "Why…?"

Ryou, his face wet with his own tears, put a hand on the other's shoulder. "We should have both seen this coming," he said hoarsely.

"It's not fair!" Yugi protested weakly. "Jonouchi and his gang were never a threat to anyone!"

"They broke the rules," Ryou said solemnly. "Stealing, interrupting business, speaking against the nobles…"

"But they were only doing it to protect…!" Yugi broke off, his hands clenched around his knees, eyes squeezed shut as the tears poured over his face.

Us, Ryou finished in his head, the weak, the needy, all of the people who have no one else to rely on, no one else to go to.

The minutes stretched on in silence. Although they strained their eyes and their ears, they caught no sign of movement in the heavy shadows around them and heard no trace of footsteps echoing off of the alley walls. Finally, when they had both fully recovered their breath, Ryou stood up as quietly as possible and whispered, "I think we should both head home now. It looks like we've gotten away."

Yugi sniffled and stood up. "What are we going to do?" He whispered. He was scared; they both were.

"I don't know," Ryou whispered back, sounding as uncertain as he felt. "Just… keep out of trouble, I guess." He started down the alleyway, but not before turning back to peer through the shadows once more at the smaller boy. "Good luck, Yugi."

"Good luck, Ryou." Yugi whisper-called back, and then turned and went his own way, the best direction he could figure home lay.

Ryou was on his own now. To be honest, he wasn't sure which direction would take him home; he hadn't bothered watching where he was going when he and Yugi had made their desperate escape. He was surprised that they had even made it out of there at all. With things the way they were now, he wasn't much sure of anything. Not that he had ever thought any of it had been a good idea. Would the authorities be searching for him now? Had they seen enough of him to remember him by?

He was straining his eyes against the darkness to catch sight of some familiar landmark when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind him. He froze, but the footsteps continued, a steady, confident beat echoing through the air. His muscles tensed, his eyes widened, his breath was cut off as fear gripped him.

The footsteps increased their pace.

Ryou bolted down the alleyway as fast as he could, turning around the closest corner, re-immersing himself into the broken down labyrinth of abandoned and crumbling walls. The ground here was littered with garbage and fallen bricks, and he stumbled more than once over obstructions lying hidden in the darkness, but he did not fall, and he kept up his pace. Over the sound of his own feet and gasping breath and pounding heart, he thought he could still hear the rapid footsteps of his pursuer.

He turned as many corners as he could, barely checking to see whether they led to dead ends or to even more unfortunate consequences. Finally, something tangled around his ankle and he fell ungracefully onto the hard cement. He lay there as still as stone, barely daring to breathe, listening. But there were no footsteps.

He slowly pushed himself up and looked around. There was no trace of anybody but himself. Had he shaken off whoever had chased him, then? He set himself to untangling his foot from what turned out to be wire with shaking hands. Kaiba's men weren't all he had to worry about; in parts of town like this one, thieves and thugs were common threats. It was always better to run, especially at this time of night.

A flash of light caught his eye as he stood up. Ryou paused; it was most likely a shard of broken glass or some useless piece of metal, but there was always a chance that something valuable lie discarded in odd places such as this, and Ryou had learned to take advantage of any opportunity he could. Old treasures could be cleaned up and sold for a nice price, and technically, he assured himself, he wasn't stealing if nobody would be coming back for it anyways. Cautiously, he picked his way across the cluttered ally towards the direction of the flash.

Carefully feeling through the darkness, he prepared himself for the disappointment of just another broken liquor bottle, when his hands met up with something decidedly not glass. Nor did it feel like a coin or jewelry or any other valuable thing he could think of that might shine. Curious, he picked the thing up and moved towards a section of the ally struck by dim moonlight.

To Ryou's surprise, the moonlight unveiled a book in his hands. It wasn't very thick or large, but the cover, although obviously old and worn, was sturdy. It was bound in black leather, which must have once been high quality, and faded red rune-like designs ran up and down its length There was no indication of either a title or author. Most curious was the cover's center, in which an old, circular mirror was embedded. Ryou could just make out his own face peering back at him through the foggy reflective surface. It must have been the mirror that had flashed and caught his eye.

Ryou stood still in a moment of indecision. He was intrigued by the book; who made it, and why? How did such a peculiar thing come to be abandoned in an ally? There would be some satisfaction in keeping it if he could he could gain some clues and satisfy his curiosity. On the other hand, how much money could he sell it for if he cleaned it up some? Would it be worth the effort?

After another moment, he slipped it into his coat pocket, without being exactly sure why. In the worst-case scenario, he supposed, it would provide him with an amusing distraction. A distraction would be nice right about now, he thought, as he began to attempt to find his way home once more, keeping as silent as possible and pausing to listen for footsteps along the way. So many things had gone so terribly wrong.

It was well past midnight when he finally snuck through the shop and into the small room he rented, listening all the while for any signs of his landlord. Exhausted, he dropped onto his bed, neglecting to even remove his jacket. He was bruised from his fall, his ankle hurt, and he was unbelievably tired. He fell deep asleep within minutes.

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AN: This is the first chapter I'll have posted in literally almost a year. I'm really trying to get back into writing, and hopefully some plots I created a year or so ago will get me moving. If you enjoyed this or have some helpful criticism to offer, I implore you to please review. I'll try my best to get back into the swing of regular updates, which, for me, will try to be at least once a month.


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